The healer was taken aback a little by the sudden change in the general's voice. They felt that he still held back his true emotion, be it because of their presence or his own sense of propriety. Whatever the cause, the healer decided to give him some privacy. Perhaps the excuse to see the knight alone hadn't been a pretext, but an earnest wish.
The general did not lift his eyes as the healer walked back to the bench where they first sat. Again, the other members around found something to do anywhere but in the healer's path, but now they also kept a wide circle around the general. Even without the sword his presence was almost tangible and awe inspiring. But the healer saw something else, a weight that his shoulders, however upright they might seem, are constantly working their hardest to uphold. And a mask of smiles and polite words that they had a chance to peak behind.
As the healer set down the general was still motionless. He just stood beside the knight, watching the bloodied and battered armour from helmet to boot. Then he calmly undid his cuirass and put it beside the table. Rubbing his shoulder he looked around and fetched a stool. The way he sat down, hunched and tired, showed how much putting up a front cost him.
Much to the healer's surprise the general took the knight's gauntlet into both his hands and lowered his forehead onto them. He didn't cry, at least not visibly, but he seemed to care for the knight much more and in a different way than the healer initially thought. The healer felt like they were invading the general's privacy and looked away. Their curious mind couldn't let go, so they stood up and went to another door, leading to one of the courtyards of the monastery.
Keeping the door ajar to listen for any calls from the general, they stood under the passageway surrounding a small square of pebbles, then grass with rough stepping stones leading to a statue of a hooded figure in its centre. The healer still didn't understand this custom, but they got used to the fact that the order had images of former elders and high priests to revere, but not a single one showing the creator. "The Creator is all around us" they could hear the high priest lecture them, but wasn't this also true for the souls of the departed?
The healer couldn't help but smile at this controversy. Where they came from deities and ancestors alike were revered wherever they left their mark and their works and images displayed with pride. Which meant, the Creator was everywhere. Still, having a place to go to, a roof over your head and an aura of peace like this monastery had its upsides. Especially when it rained, like how it started right now. They took a step back under the cover of the passageway and tucked their hands into their sleeves against the sudden chill of the winds.
If only there were a single tree the healer wouldn't feel so caged within these cold walls, but the small sapling from home they were allowed to nurture in their private room was the only plant aside from those in the herbalism wing and the gardens. Which they hadn't been granted access to for a long time due to their continued insubordination and practice of unsanctioned methods of healing. The healer had to get back into the high priest's good graces to replenish their dwindling supply of herbs. They sighed deeply, because their actions today had most certainly not done them any favours in that regard.
Careful footsteps approaching from the door pulled the healer back into the here and now. "Excuse me, but your guest requests your presence, Chosen One." stuttered the shy and sweet voice of Erin, one of the newest acolytes of the order. The healer did not know where she read about the prophecy bringing them here, but it left a lasting impression on her and made her cling to their robes whenever they met. It was selfish to indulge her, but none of the others dared to talk with them, so they let the girl be. Sooner or later she would read between the lines and discover that the prophesied one wasn't someone you should be too close to.
